


What's the Most Important Thing to Remember?

by comeherebooch



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, Gen, Post: s11e05 Ghouli, angst angst and more angst, but mostly a mother/son conversation, mentions of Mulder, post ghouli, there's a tag for mulder's fish and i've been laughing about it for 4 minutes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-29 07:32:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13922349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/comeherebooch/pseuds/comeherebooch
Summary: She looked down at her shoes, then back up at him and he felt something tug at his heart at the sight of her genuine, ice blue eyes. "I'll always worry about you."





	1. part one

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, this is my first (and probably only) time posting fic for The X Files. An idea popped into my head after Ghouli that I couldn't pass up so I wrote this tiny lil thing. And then I got another idea. So there are 3 parts total. There's this part (1) and the second part is more of a companion "what-if" piece and the 3rd part will be a continuation of the 1st. I originally posted this as a photofic on my tumblr but the second part got fic length so I figured I'd post all my feels on here as well.

She looked up when she heard footsteps coming toward her. Not hiding her disappointment, she frowned at the sight of the stranger from the gas station looking down at her.

“Hi,” her voice was raspy from not talking for a few hours, lost in her thoughts most of the day. She cleared her throat and gestured across from her, “have a seat.”

The man sat down and stared at her. She felt slightly uncomfortable since it wasn’t really his eyes looking at her. “Can you….be yourself??” she heard her voice ask timidly.

“I don’t want anyone to recognize me,” he told her.

She glanced around the diner they were in, hardly any customers there, a few of them lingered by the counter sipping coffee. She longed to see his actual face, alive and right in front of her but she didn’t want to push it so she nodded and put her hands in her lap.

“How’ve you been?” she asked, wondering why her voice was so cautious, as if he were going to get up and just leave.

“Fine,” he answered and she somehow knew that to be a lie. “What about you?”

“Fine,” she also said, sighing inwardly. They should really get to the point.

“That’s good,” he nodded, leaning back in the seat, snatching the diner menu and browsing. She wondered briefly as she watched him if he had money. She would pay, of course, but she worried about how he was taking care of himself.

He caught her eye and smirked. “I can pay, you know,” he said. “I have a job.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Oh, I wasn’t thinking that. I was just…”

“Wondering where I’m living and worried I’m missing school?”

She said nothing.

She wanted to ask where he worked. She wanted to ask what his plans were. She wanted to ask so much. But she didn’t.

“You don’t need to worry about me,” he continued, “I can take care of myself.”

“Do you really want to live your life disguising yourself like this?”

“No,” he answered with a tone, annoyed at something she couldn’t guess what, “I can’t anyway, if I do it for too long, I get headaches.”

She sat up straighter. “Do you get them often? I can maybe help, I’m a doc-”

“A doctor, I know,” he interrupted, looking back at his menu, “Doctor Dana Scully.”

“How did you-”

“The internet.”

Right. Of course.

“How did you know I was...who I am,” she wanted to hit herself for how poorly worded that was.

The older man shrugged. “Just a feeling, I guess.”

“You didn’t find that on the internet, did you?” she almost asked jokingly but did want to know if it was documented there.

“No,” he continued to avoid looking her straight in the eyes and still stared at the menu casually, as if they had meetups like this all the time.

“Then how the hell did you find out?”

“I told you,” he still looked at the menu, “a feeling I had.”

When she went quiet again, not knowing what else to say but having so much to say and ask, he finally looked up at her.

“Sometimes I get these feelings,” he started, “call it gut instinct or I’m a really good guesser. And with this other ability I have to make people see something else...that is unexplainable. I used to think it was all the medication I had to take but now I just think I’m some kind of weird alien.”

She knew he was joking by the way he said it and by the way the end of his mouth quirked up, which reminded her of his father, she thought. If only she could see his real face. Before she knew it she was blurting out, “do you believe in extraterrestrials?”

The smile still remained as he waved for a waitress to come over. “It would be foolish to think we were the only beings that existed.”

Scully wished Mulder was here then. He would’ve been freaking out at this, she thought.

When the waitress came to take his order, she ordered a water and he ordered a full breakfast plate.

She wasn’t going to say it was nine o'clock at night and why would he be eating pancakes because then it would seem like she was trying to mother him.

They were both silent as they waited for the waitress to come back, waited for the other to say anything. Scully was afraid to say the wrong thing, he was afraid to get angry.

The waitress arrived again, placing his food down and asked if she wanted something else to drink since she hadn’t sipped at her water. Scully shook her head no and watched as her son, disguised as an older man, began to eat.

As she watched, she tried to think of how his real face would look and studied his mannerisms. As a doctor and scientist, she was very observant and learned with her time at the FBI a thing or two about body language and movement. He seemed casual and ok with the situation and she knew she was completely tense. She hoped he couldn’t sense that.

“It makes me uncomfortable when people stare,” he mentioned, putting his fork down.

Scully quickly looked down at her manicured fingers in front of her on the table. “I’m sorry.”

He went back to eating and she felt tears prickle at the back of her eyes. She couldn’t cry in front of him.

Why did this feel so awkward? Why couldn’t they say more? What do you expect, she thought to herself, he was a depressed kid and that probably meant socially awkward too and she was afraid to ask him any questions about what she knew and what she wanted to know. Why can’t it just feel instant, like we’ve known each other a long time, like we’re bonded forever because we share the same blood? It just wasn’t that simple.

“Can you tell me anything about my father?” he asked suddenly.

She sighed with relief. She could talk about his father for ages. “He’s….special. We both worked together in the FBI. He saved my life many times.” She wanted to tell him how much his father loved him. How much he missed him. “He’s the greatest man I’ve ever known.”

“Is he dead?”

“No!” Scully exclaimed, noting his straightforwardness and wondering if his adoptive parents were like that or if it was indeed a trait from her. “No, he’s alive. He’s working.”

“So you can skip work but he can’t?” the man asked.

Scully looked uncomfortable now. “He...he doesn’t know I’m here.”

“Why not?”

She was honest with him. “I didn’t want him to worry - about me. I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“But what if I wanted to see him?” the man said and Scully suspected if she could’ve seen her son’s real face her heart would’ve broken at the sight.

“I’m sorry, I’ll bring him next time. I - I actually wanted to run something by you…” this was it.

The man waited for her to speak.

Scully took a deep breath. “Well - and I know it’s not my place...I just. Um, Mulder and I - that’s your father’s name - Mulder. We’ve been worried about your whereabouts and how your current living situation is and -” she hesitated to go on but his face didn’t change, “well you’re only fifteen and you should be in school. And - those headaches you mentioned, we can figure that out, your father and I. Weird stuff like that are kind of our thing and I - you’re welcome to...to stay with us if you’d like.” Scully normally wasn’t clumsy over her words, she was usually precise and knew what she was talking about but now her mind was all over the place and she felt like her tongue had left her mouth with her constant jabbering.

The man was quiet, lost in his own thoughts at her words. It sounded nice, he thought to himself, and he could probably get his own bed considering he was actually sleeping in some shack he found behind a gas station that no one occupied. And it was probably warm and his m...this woman probably cooked or perhaps his father cooked and maybe just maybe something could work out.

But then he thought of his parents. Both dead. Because of him. He would rather continue to stay in the hellhole shack than let anything happen to anyone else.

“I don’t think I would….” he chose his words carefully, cringing internally at her hopeful look, “fit in. I’m kind of a loner.”

She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. She had expected him to say no but it still hurt like a hammer had hit her chest and she struggled to breathe. She reached out for any last shred of hope. “I - we can protect you. If that’s what you’re afraid of.”

It was exactly what he was afraid of.

“I’ll be ok,” he continued to stand his ground, hating her obvious look of hurt. He had to get out of there. His head was starting to hurt. “I should probably go…”

Sighing, she nodded and stood up when he did, stopping him when he felt for a wallet in his pocket, her voice gentle. “I got it.”

They left the diner, quiet again. Scully tried breathing deeply through her nose, keeping her lips tightly closed so she wouldn’t lose her calm. What if he didn’t want to see her again? What if she made it more awkward by inviting him to stay with them?

He turned to her and she audibly gasped when she could see it was him. His real face. Tall, dark hair, small mouth, her dimples in his cheeks.

“I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings,” he said sincerely and she could feel her heart squeezing at his actual eyes looking into hers.

“You didn’t hurt my feelings,” she let him know, just as sincere, “I’m just worried.”

“I told you you didn’t have to worry about me,” he reminded her.

She looked down at her shoes, then back up at him and he found himself sad at the sudden tears in her blue, blue eyes. “I’ll always worry about you.”

Her fingers itched to touch him but she didn’t. It may be too soon.

Both of them lingering in the front of the quiet diner, only a few cars in the lowly lit parking lot, he shuffled his feet. “Why did you give me up?” He didn’t want to ask and hadn’t planned on it but he didn’t know if he would see her again.

She was careful with her answer, aware it was similar to the speech she had given at what she thought was his dead body almost six months before. “I didn’t want to,” she told him, “I wanted to keep you so bad. But I couldn’t.” She swallowed the lump in her throat, nodding with confidence in her past decision, “it was safer for you to be with them. I had to protect you.”

“From what?” she knew that question was coming.

What could she say? From you? From myself? From the strange people that tried to kidnap you when you were a baby?

“Our jobs could be very dangerous at times,” she whispered.

He threw his hands up with a sarcastic, bitter laugh. “It didn’t seem to turn out that well this way either.”

She flashed hurt, almost angry eyes at him. “I had to try to give you what I thought would be your best chance.”

“Best chance at what?” he challenged back, unleashing his hidden rage and upset at being given up. “Best chance at weird things happening to me? Best chance at being put in therapy because I made some kid see something that freaked him out so bad he wet himself? Best chance at being put on medication because they think I’m fucked up in the head? Best chance at my parents being killed? Best chance at feeling completely alone in this stupid world?”

Scully felt a tear trickle down her cheek, her voice raspy again. “Worse things could have happened if we had kept you.”

Her son laughed bitterly again, nodding his head, whispering, “yeah, well. At least we would’ve been together.”

She watched him walk away and when she couldn’t see him anymore she hurriedly got inside her car, grabbing her phone to dial Mulder but stopped herself. He didn’t know about this. How would he feel if she told him what happened? Scully bit her lip, put her head in her hands, and cried.

//

She looked up when she heard footsteps coming toward her. Not hiding her disappointment, she frowned at the sight of the stranger from the gas station looking down at her.

 

“Hi,” her voice was raspy from not talking for a few hours, lost in her thoughts most of the day. She cleared her throat and gestured across from her, “have a seat.”

 

The man sat down and stared at her. She felt slightly uncomfortable since it wasn’t really his eyes looking at her. “Can you….be yourself?” she heard her voice ask timidly.

 

“I don’t want anyone to recognize me,” he told her.

 

She glanced around the diner they were in, hardly any customers there, a few of them lingered by the counter sipping coffee. She longed to see his actual face, alive and right in front of her but she didn’t want to push it so she nodded and put her hands in her lap.

 

“How’ve you been?” she asked, wondering why her voice was so cautious, as if he were going to get up and just leave.

 

“Fine,” he answered and she somehow knew that to be a lie. “What about you?”

 

“Fine,” she also said, sighing inwardly. They should really get to the point.

 

“That’s good,” he nodded, leaning back in the seat, snatching the diner menu and browsing. She wondered briefly as she watched him if he had money. She would pay, of course, but she worried about how he was taking care of himself.

 

He caught her eye and smirked. “I can pay, you know,” he said. “I have a job.”

 

Her eyebrows shot up. “Oh, I wasn’t thinking that. I was just…”

 

“Wondering where I’m living and worried I’m missing school?”

 

She said nothing.

 

She wanted to ask where he worked. She wanted to ask what his plans were. She wanted to ask so much. But she didn’t.

 

“You don’t need to worry about me,” he continued, “I can take care of myself.”

 

“Do you really want to live your life disguising yourself like this?”

 

“No,” he answered with a tone, annoyed at something she couldn’t guess what, “I can’t anyway, if I do it for too long, I get headaches.”

 

She sat up straighter. “Do you get them often? I can maybe help, I’m a doc-”

 

“A doctor, I know,” he interrupted, looking back at his menu, “Doctor Dana Scully.”

 

“How did you-”

 

“The internet.”

 

Right. Of course.

 

“How did you know I was…who I am,” she wanted to hit herself for how poorly worded that was.

 

The older man shrugged. “Just a feeling, I guess.”

 

“You didn’t find that on the internet, did you?” she almost asked jokingly but did want to know if it was documented there.

 

“No,” he continued to avoid looking her straight in the eyes and still stared at the menu casually, as if they had meetups like this all the time.

 

“Then how the hell did you find out?”

 

“I told you,” he still looked at the menu, “a feeling I had.”

 

When she went quiet again, not knowing what else to say but having so much to say and ask, he finally looked up at her.

 

“Sometimes I get these feelings,” he started, “call it gut instinct or I’m a really good guesser. And with this other ability I have to make other people see something else…that is unexplainable. I used to think it was all the medication I had to take but now I just think I’m some kind of weird alien.”

 

She knew he was joking by the way he said it and by the way the end of his mouth quirked up, which reminded her of his father, she thought. If only she could see his real face. Before she knew it she was blurting out, “do you believe in extraterrestrials?”

 

The smile still remained as he waved for a waitress to come over. “It would be foolish to think we were the only beings that existed.”

 

Scully wished Mulder was here then. He would’ve been freaking out at this, she thought.

 

When the waitress came to take his order, she ordered a water and he ordered a full breakfast plate.

 

She wasn’t going to say it was nine o'clock at night and why would he be eating pancakes because then it would seem like she was trying to mother him.

 

They were both silent as they waited for the waitress to come back, waited for the other to say anything. Scully was afraid to say the wrong thing, he was afraid to get angry.

 

The waitress arrived again, placing his food down and asked if she wanted something else to drink since she hadn’t sipped at her water. Scully shook her head no and watched as her son, disguised as an older man, began to eat.

 

As she watched, she tried to think of how his real face would look and studied his mannerisms. As a doctor and scientist, she was very observant and learned with her time at the FBI a thing or two about body language and movement. He seemed casual and ok with the situation but she knew she was completely tense. She hoped he couldn’t sense that.

 

“It makes me uneasy when people stare,” he mentioned, putting his fork down.

 

Scully quickly looked down at her manicured fingers in front of her on the table. “I’m sorry.”

 

He went back to eating and she felt tears prickle at the back of her eyes. She couldn’t cry in front of him.

 

Why did this feel so awkward? Why couldn’t they say more? What do you expect, she thought to herself, he was a depressed kid and that probably meant socially awkward too and she was afraid to ask him any questions about what she knew and what she wanted to know. Why can’t it just feel instant, like we’ve known each other a long time, like we’re bonded forever because we share the same blood? It just wasn’t that simple.

 

“Can you tell me anything about my father?” he asked suddenly.

 

She sighed with relief. She could talk about his father for ages. “He’s….special. We both worked together in the FBI. He saved my life many times.” She wanted to tell him how much his father loved him. How much he missed him. “He’s the greatest man I’ve ever known.”

 

“Is he dead?”

 

“No!” Scully exclaimed, noting his straightforwardness and wondering if his adoptive parents were like that or if it was indeed a trait from her. “No, he’s alive. He’s working.”

 

“So you can skip work but he can’t?” the man asked.

 

Scully looked uncomfortable now. “He…he doesn’t know I’m here.”

 

“Why not?”

 

She was honest with him. “I didn’t want him to worry - about me. I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

 

“But what if I wanted to see him?” the man said and Scully suspected if she could’ve seen her son’s real face her heart would’ve broken at the sight.

 

“I’m sorry, I’ll bring him next time. I - I actually wanted to run something by you…” this was it.  
The man waited for her to speak.

 

Scully took a deep breath. “Well - and I know it’s not my place…I just. Um, Mulder and I - that’s your father’s name - Mulder. We’ve been worried about your whereabouts and how your current living situation is and -” she hesitated to go on but his face didn’t change, “well you’re only fifteen and you should be in school. And - those headaches you mentioned, we can figure that out, your father and I. Weird stuff like that are kind of our thing and I - you’re welcome to…to stay with us if you’d like.” Scully normally wasn’t clumsy over her words, she was usually precise and knew what she was talking about but now her mind was all over the place and she felt like her tongue had left her mouth with her constant jabbering.

 

The man was quiet, lost in his own thoughts at her words. It sounded nice, he thought to himself, and he could probably get his own bed considering he was actually sleeping in some shack he found behind a gas station that no one occupied. And it was probably warm and his m…this woman probably cooked or perhaps his father cooked and maybe just maybe something could work out.

 

But then he thought of his parents. Both dead. Because of him. He would rather continue to stay in the hellhole shack than let anything happen to anyone else.

 

“I don’t think I would….” he chose his words carefully, cringing internally at her hopeful look, “fit in. I’m kind of a loner.”

 

She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. She had expected him to say no but it still hurt like a hammer had hit her chest and she struggled to breathe. She reached out for any last shred of hope. “I - we can protect you. If that’s what you’re afraid of.”

 

It was exactly what he was afraid of.

 

“I’ll be ok,” he continued to stand his ground, hating her obvious look of hurt. He had to get out of there. His head was starting to hurt. “I should probably go…”

 

Sighing, she nodded and stood up when he did, stopping him when he felt for a wallet in his pocket, her voice gentle. “I got it.”

 

They left the diner, quiet again. Scully tried breathing deeply through her nose, keeping her lips tightly closed so she wouldn’t lose her calm. What if he didn’t want to see her again? What if she made it more awkward by inviting him to stay with them?

 

He turned to her and she audibly gasped when she could see it was him. His real face. Tall, dark hair, small mouth, her dimples in his cheeks.

 

“I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings,” he said sincerely and she could feel her heart squeezing at his actual eyes looking into hers.

 

“You didn’t hurt my feelings,” she let him know, just as sincere, “I’m just worried.”

 

“I told you you didn’t have to worry about me,” he reminded her.

 

She looked down at her shoes, then back up at him and he felt something tug at his heart at the sight of her genuine, ice blue eyes. "I'll always worry about you."

 

Her fingers itched to touch him but she didn’t. It may be too soon.

 

Both of them lingering in the front of the quiet diner, only a few cars in the lowly lit parking lot, he shuffled his feet. “Why did you give me up?” He didn’t want to ask and hadn’t planned on it but he didn’t know if he would see her again.

 

She was careful with her answer, aware it was similar to the speech she had given at what she thought was his dead body almost six months before. “I didn’t want to,” she told him, “I wanted to keep you so bad. But I couldn’t.” She swallowed the lump in her throat, nodding with confidence in her past decision, “it was safer for you to be with them. I had to protect you.”

 

“From what?” she knew that question was coming.

 

What could she say? From you? From myself? From the strange people that tried to kidnap you when you were a baby?

 

“Our jobs could be very dangerous at times,” she whispered.

 

He threw his hands up with a sarcastic, bitter laugh. “It didn’t seem to turn out that well this way either.”

 

She flashed hurt, almost angry eyes at him. “I had to try to give you what I thought would be your best chance.”

 

“Best chance at what?” he challenged back, unleashing his hidden rage and upset at being given up. “Best chance at weird things happening to me? Best chance at being put in therapy because I made some kid see something that freaked him out so bad he wet himself? Best chance at being put on medication because they think I’m fucked up in the head? Best chance at my parents being killed? Best chance at feeling completely alone in this stupid world?”

 

Scully felt a tear trickle down her cheek, her voice raspy again. “Worse things could have happened if we had kept you.”

 

Her son laughed bitterly again, nodding his head, whispering, “yeah, well. At least we would’ve been together.”

 

The woman’s facial expression at his words stung him, he didn’t wish to hurt her like this but he was agitated and tired. 

She watched him walk away and when she couldn’t see him anymore she hurriedly got inside her car, grabbing her phone to dial Mulder but stopped herself. He didn’t know about this. How would he feel if she told him what happened? Scully bit her lip, put her head in her hands, and cried.


	2. part two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is completely unrelated to the first part and is more of a what if Mulder and Scully went on the run with William scenario. I couldn't get the idea of William writing all of his thoughts in this journal down and it was supposed to be a short and sweet kind of thing but then it just...wasn't.

He was eleven years old when his father gave him the book.

 

It was a small black book and, he noticed with an eye roll, had the words “I need space” on it. He loved space and found the stars and moon fascinating. “I noticed you writing the other day,” his father told him.

 

He actually liked to draw more but sometimes when he felt the need, he would write words until he fell asleep at night. Sometimes he would write when he couldn’t express his own emotions. “A trait you share with your mother,” his dad would say.

 

He never started writing his thoughts down until that night. The night when his house was invaded. Before that, it had just been drawings of things he dreamed about. Monsters, the planets, aliens, a really cool telescope he saw in some advertisement on the kitchen table.

 

_ July 17th, 2012 _

_ As mom buckled me in the car, my eyes burned. Not only because of the smoke but they burned with tears I wouldn’t let fall. I wanted to ask why this was happening, why we were leaving everything we knew. But I knew my parents wouldn’t answer my questions, so I kept quiet and tried not to cry. It would just worry them more. _

 

_ Dad started driving and when we heard a loud crash and crackling, mom looked at me and said: “don’t look back.” _

 

_ I did. I couldn’t see the house anymore because of how fast dad was driving and how dark it was but I could see the big tree that was rooted outside in our backyard burning. Mom had warned me after I turned ten. She mentioned their jobs at the FBI and how danger sometimes seemed to follow them. I knew there was more to it but neither mom or dad would tell me more. _

 

He cried out when he saw the treehouse he and his father had built together on fire, his favorite telescope his mom had gotten him for his birthday in there too. Now it was gone.

 

His parents were quiet in the front seat and he could hear his mom whispering something to him but didn’t bother to look up. He brought his knees up to his chest and buried his face in his arms.

 

After a while of driving in silence his father finally spoke. “Anybody need to go to the bathroom?”

 

His mom didn’t say anything and neither did he. His dad waited a beat and said: “last pee stop in 5...4….3…..”

 

When neither of them said nothing again, he sighed and looked at his son’s still form in the mirror. “I’m sorry about your telescope, buddy. I’m sorry this is happening.”

 

“Where are we going?” he asked, his voice muffled from leaning into his arms.

 

“Mulder,” his mother said, looking behind her son, eyes wide. “They’re following us.”

 

He looked behind him and saw two small dots, indicating headlights following them. 

 

_ I don’t know who it was or why they were following us,  _ he wrote later that night,  _ but I can’t imagine my mom and dad ever making any enemies. _

 

His dad sighed, “hold on.” And pressed harder on the gas. Mulder took a sharp right turn onto a dirt road and Scully and their son both swayed harshly to the left. 

 

The boy watched as the lights faded away, breathing a sigh of relief he hadn’t even known he was holding in.

 

His dad started driving a regular speed again, as if it were completely normal that they had to outrun bad guys.  _ Were they bad guys? Were they the FBI? Why were we driving away? Why did they burn our house down, all of our things? I wish I had time to grab my telescope. _ He was still in his pajamas. He had happened to be drawing another picture in his book when his dad ran upstairs to tell him they had to get out and  _ now. _

 

He thought about his bed, how comforting it was and how he no longer had it. He thought about his room, and the blue walls and constellations painted there. He thought about his bookshelf and all his favorite mystery novels and books about space and science. He thought about his dad’s beloved fish tank, he thought about his mom’s office where he’d sometimes sit with her as she worked at her desk, and they’d go back and forth on the periodic table of elements, which he had been trying to memorize not because of school but because he wanted to. He thought about how he took his home, his comfort, for granted and finally allowed himself to cry.  _ What was going to happen now? _

 

He never realized he was making noise, he tried crying quietly into the crook of his elbow but he guessed he was being pretty loud because he felt a gentle hand on his leg, his mom’s quiet voice, “William?”

 

When he looked up at her he could see that her eyes were red, as if she had been crying too but he saw no sign of tears. All he had to say was: “mom…” and she was moving. She unbuckled quickly and set her arm on the drivers headrest, boosting herself over the middle console and settling into the seat next to him. She swiftly enveloped him in her arms and he cried again at the feeling of her lips in his hair. She began to sway back and forth with him, murmuring apologies as he held on just as tight. 

 

When he finally began to fall asleep, Scully looked up into the rear view mirror over her son’s head and into her husband’s eyes. Mulder knew she was trying to keep herself from crying out at the pain this was causing their son but she wouldn’t. Their son was also that stubborn but he was still only a kid. Mulder’s heart ached to stop the car and hug them both tightly and promise them everything would be ok, but he kept driving. 

 

They eventually stopped at a motel and it was almost three in the morning. Mulder looked in the back to see the two most important people in his life asleep. William had slumped over against his mother and Scully’s arm was wrapped around his small shoulders. They looked troubled in their sleep, Scully’s eyebrows furrowed as she kept a protective arm around their son. He hated to wake them and remind them of this nightmare.

 

“Scully,” he hissed and she woke, her arm that was around her son was numb and she stretched it upward.

 

“We’re here,” he just said and got out of the car to go and check them in. Scully looked out the window and flinched at the crick in her neck. She watched William sleep while waiting for her husband. Her heart ached in her chest at how confused and lost he must feel. She couldn’t explain it to him, he was too young. But then again, he was definitely too young to be suddenly on the run with his parents.

 

Mulder returned, quickly opening the back door and extracting their son from his sleeping position. She followed, brushing the hair out of William’s face as he continued to sleep against his father’s shoulder.

 

William didn’t wake until he felt his mother pulling off his shoes and whispering to his dad.

 

“Mulder, you can’t sleep on the floor, you’ve been driving for hours.”

 

“I’ve never made you sleep on the floor and I’m not about to now.”

 

William could almost hear his mother’s eye roll at his dad’s stubbornness.

 

“Mom?” he made his presence known and they both looked over from the end of the bed at him.

 

“Go back to sleep, kid, we’re safe now,” his dad said.

 

“Where are we? Who were those people that made us leave our house? Are we in trouble?”

 

His parents said nothing and he expected as much. They were so secretive, it drove him crazy.

 

His mom sat next to him in the bed and placed her hand on his head, smoothing his hair. “We’ll talk about that in the morning, honey. Just get some sleep for now, ok?”

 

He was still so tired. But the bed was so uncomfortable and his mind raced with so many questions he’ll probably never get the answers to. He missed his bed.

 

“Will you both lay with me?”

 

Mulder was going to say there wasn’t any room on the bed for all three of them but when his wife caught his eye, he didn’t. Just nodded and watched as Scully wordlessly lay next to their son, snuggling close to him which he would normally turn away at that sort of affection but he was scared and wanted his parents. Mulder pursed his lips at the sliver of space left on the bed, shrugged to himself and figured he could probably fit if he laid one leg off the bed. He’s slept in worse positions. His nose almost touched the back of William’s head and he hoped his breathing didn’t bother him, but he already seemed to be back asleep. Mulder finally felt himself giving in to his exhaustion when he felt Scully’s hand reach out across their son for his, holding it tightly, as if to keep him from rolling off the bed and to seek reassurance that they really would be alright. He squeezed her hand and fell asleep.

 

_ October 9, 2012 _

_ It has been almost 3 months since we left home. We’re still hopping from place to place, never staying anywhere longer than a week. At first, mom and dad tried to make it seem like an adventure but after about a month, it got tiring. I can tell they miss home too. I still don’t know anything about who we’re running from or why. I’m getting tired of them brushing me off or changing the subject every time I ask. Is this what the rest of our lives is supposed to be? When does it end? I have theories on why we’re running. Theory 1: we’re wanted by the FBI in a surprising twist after my parents retired and left their department. Why? Maybe they stole government property? Or pissed the wrong person off? Theory 2: someone from a previous case wants them dead and will stop at nothing to do so. Seems unlikely since dad always would joke that they never really closed a case but ya never know. Theory 3: me. Someone is after  _ me.  _ This one makes the least sense, considering I’ve never really done anything to piss anyone off. Or at least I don’t think I have. Not made them mad enough to want to kill me. Us? My head hurts. I’m going to go to bed soon but first I think I’m going to try and get some answers. _

 

William shoved the sheets off his legs, closed his book and sat up straight, settling his bare feet on the carpeted motel floor and stared at the bathroom door as he waited for his mom to come out.

 

When she finally came out of the bathroom, drying her freshly showered hair with a towel as much as she could, she shot him a smile. “Your dad not back yet?”

 

“No,” he answered timidly, afraid she would get mad if he started this conversation.

 

“It makes me nervous when he takes so long,” his mom worried as she sat down on the next bed over, crossing her legs as she continued to towel dry her hair. “And I’m hungry.”

 

“Is it me?” he blurted. 

 

His mom stopped, hands frozen in place in her wet hair. “What?”

 

“Are we running...because of me?”

 

She looked at him for a long moment, then sighed, climbing over to his bed and sitting next to him.

 

“It’s complicated, bud.” She said and he took that as a yes. “I’m not even sure of the why’s myself.”

 

“But who is it that’s after me? And why? I’m just...ordinary.”

 

At this, his mom smiled, her dimples peeking out and she pinched his cheek playfully. “You’re anything but ordinary.”

 

William rolled his eyes but smiled, the same dimples in his cheeks. He had heard the story of his mom’s “miracle pregnancy” many times.

 

_ Aliens. Supernatural. Powers. Government. Colonization. She told me everything. Or at least, enough. Maybe too much. My mind feels like it’s going to explode. Her words were so stoic, almost cold. I feel like it’s the same voice she uses when she talks to patients or other doctors. Cold hard facts voice. It actually is a comfort to me when I hear it since it is the voice I am used to when I fall off my bike or I break my ankle playing baseball. But it scared me tonight. Not her voice, just the words and their meaning. What is to become of us? Dad’s back from getting pizza and I’m full but now my stomach is all bundled up with nerves and I feel sick. I better go to sleep. Mom’s looking at me with concern. She never told dad what she told me while he was gone but somehow I feel like he already knows that I know. He has the same look of concern. Sometimes my parents could talk with just a look and it annoys me a lot. It feels like I’m outside of their secret bubble when I feel like I should be in it, with them. Maybe it was just something they had since they’ve been partners at their old job. _

 

William paused to think about what to write next when the book was taken out of his hands and he protested with a tired: “hey!”

 

“You’re falling asleep,” his dad said and William’s eyes blinked slowly.

 

Later that night, William tossed and turned in the uncomfortable motel bed and once again longed for his own. Maybe next week I’ll have a better one, he thought. His eyes fluttered open when he heard talking.

 

He was facing his parent’s bed, but it was empty. He found them sitting by the motel window, heads close together, sitting at a small round table.

 

His mom plucked at her sleeve, watching her fingers instead of looking at him. “Sometimes I wish we had given him up.”

 

_ What? _ William screamed in his head.

 

“What?” his dad echoed his thoughts.

 

“I wouldn’t trade our time with him for anything in the world,” his mom was quick to say. “But...Mulder, this is crazy. This isn’t a life. It’s not the life I wanted for him.”

 

His dad reached out to still her hand. She looked at him then. “I never wanted this for you either.”

 

Scully took her hand out of his and leaned over to place it on Mulder’s cheek. “I know,” she whispered. “And I feel we’re both safest with you here.”

 

His parents were silent then but in the moonlight through the blinds behind them, William could see his dad’s lips still moving. They were still talking, just quieter now.

 

“...some things I didn’t say,” his mom was saying. Their voices were so quiet, William strained to hear.

 

“We’re lucky he can still sleep, Scully. The boy is probably freaking the hell out,” his dad said.

 

“I had to tell him, he was so confused and what are we supposed to do, pretend forever?” Scully shot back, “we  _ need  _ a plan.”

 

“There’s so many different people, Scully,” his dad whispered, “so many motives.”

 

“So what, we just run around and wait for -”

 

“I never said that,” Mulder interrupted.

 

Wait for what? William thought in his mind.

 

His parents both looked over at him. William hadn’t noticed he had said that last thought out loud.

 

Scully looked over at Mulder and he looked back. They were sharing a secret again. Only this time, by the look on their faces, William would rather not know.

 

_ December 21, 2012 _

_ It’s freezing here. We’re in a bigger city this time. More cars, more tall buildings. I guess it’s harder to find people here. Most places we’ve been to are in the country, with gas stations and convenience stores miles and miles apart. I like the city, but right now it’s too cold and it’s too loud. You would think with all the snow that people would be unable to leave and go to work it would be quieter but it wasn’t. We’ve actually been here longer than two weeks. Mom adores the city life. Dad is ok with it, happy if mom’s happy. Not to say that any of us are happy, but..we’re alive. They haven’t told me much more about who is after us and why and I haven’t asked. My need to know has gone and now I just kind of go with it. I’m hopeful we won’t be doing this for much longer but then I’m also afraid we’ll be doing this for years and years. I actually would rather be in school. Mom’s been teaching me a lot of stuff, science and math stuff, and we both enjoy it and dad has been teaching me english and psychology. It’s a quiet day in our apartment. We all have fake names, which is pretty cool. We had some fun in the beginning making up dumb names for motels we stayed at but this one dad said we were probably going to use a while. A while could mean up to three weeks or maybe even two months. We’ll see how it goes. _

 

William looked up from his book in his corner at the sound of the door being opened. It was his mom, her red hair in her face from the wind and she swiped at it with her gloved hand.

 

“Hey, beauty,” his dad called from the small kitchen where he was attempting to make them lunch.

 

His mom scoffed at the term as she still struggled with her long hair in her face and two large grocery bags in her arms. William quickly got up to grab one and she smiled in thanks, dropping the other on the counter in the kitchen.

 

“Got the stuff for your salad?” Mulder asked, stirring what looked like soup in a pot on the stove.

 

“Yes and you two are going to eat some with me tonight,” she said.

 

William and Mulder groaned in unison at the thought of eating anything green.

 

Scully clucked her tongue. “Boys.”

 

“Ok, I’ll have a little,” his father grumbled at her look and William rolled his eyes when his mom smiled and stood on her toes to kiss him.

 

“Thank you. Will, a little bit of it won’t kill you,” she turned to the tiny living room, “I’m going to finish reading my book.”

 

Later that night, when all the lights were out and the apartment was quiet but the city was not, William leaned against the wall next to the window where he could use the lights from outside to write in his notebook.

 

_ Today was good. For once, things almost seemed normal. Almost like we were home. All we do is run and run and run and run. Sometimes I think about the night when my mom said she wished she gave me up. I know she didn’t really wish that and I know that she was just worried and doesn’t want to live this way either. They’re just trying to protect me and I’m thankful for it. It wouldn’t feel right if I were with other people. I’d have a room and a bed to sleep in, sure, but they still provide that for me every night, even if it’s not the same. They’re trying. _

 

“Will?” His mom’s whisper startled him and he shut his book, about to stand up.

 

“Don’t get up,” she said and he sat back down, “I was just checking on you.”

 

William nodded and looked out the window. It was finally quiet on their street which meant it was probably almost morning.

 

“You ok?” his mom asked. He nodded again, still looking out the window.

 

He heard her move and felt her sit next to him on the floor. When he looked over at her, her blue eyes were watery.

 

“What’s wrong?” his voice was a whisper too. He never saw his mom cry. It made his heart squeeze painfully in his chest.

 

“Nothing,” she said. She stared at his face and it almost made him uncomfortable; it was like she was studying him. She placed her hand on his boney shoulder and pulled him into her arms. He let her and said nothing. He felt comforted at the feel of her warm breathing on the side of his head as she held him close.

 

Her quiet voice was right in his ear. “What’s the most important thing to remember?”

 

“Um, always say please and thank you?” he guessed.

 

Her laugh was soft and he loved to hear it. It was rare. “No.” She stroked his hair.

 

“Say excuse me if you fart?” he guessed, again trying to make her laugh.

 

She did. “No,” she said, hand brushing his forehead, “the most important thing to remember is that I love you. We love you.”

 

William settled more comfortably in his mother’s embrace, even though he was getting too big to do so. “I love you too.”

 

All of a sudden his dad was there and his face was panicked. William and Scully both knew what that face meant. Mulder leaned down, before rushing to pack, to press a kiss to Scully’s forehead, then to his son’s.

 

The last thing he thought as his mom whispered at him  _ move _ was: “at least we’re together.” 

 

_ And we run. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pt 3 coming soon


	3. part three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> final part to the story. it was so fun and so frustrating to write but I enjoyed writing William/Jackson and always enjoy a chance to write angst with a good amount of fluff in the end. Thanks for reading!

The gravel crunched under his shoes as he walked. He hoped it would alert them of his presence but he also hoped it didn’t in case he panicked and needed to escape. He kept reminding himself he had to do it and carried on up the driveway. He kept his eyes straight ahead at his goal, the door, and didn’t allow them to wander. He knew the house was fairly big and possibly two stories and he briefly wondered with an unexpected pang in his chest if his parents had other children roaming the house, laughing as their mom rolled her blue eyes and told them to  _ slow down _ and  _ you’re going to hurt yourself _ and imagined their dad catching their kid or  _ kids _ by the back of their shirt.  _ Not so fast, _ he’d say before the kids could continue playing inside tag.  _ Listen to your mother. _

 

Jackson felt himself slow considerably. This was a very bad idea. He should definitely leave before he got caught. 

 

But he was already almost to the front steps to the door and maybe they could just let him stay one night. Could he handle seeing them both staring at him? Could he handle the way they go about their routine, probably dinner, bath time for the kids and then tuck them in for bed? Would he care too much or not at all?

 

He took a deep breath and raised his hand to knock once. Just once. If they didn’t hear it then that meant he could leave. 

 

The door opened seconds later, revealing an older man he had recognized from a far distance when lingering around the Chimera. This man was his father?

 

“Hey,” he said awkwardly, knowing he looked completely out of place. It was a warm day and he was in black jeans and a black shirt, his hair longer and in his face. He must’ve looked horrifying and like he hadn’t bathed in days. He almost laughed at himself. 

 

The older man’s mouth hung open. Jackson waited for him to say something but nothing came out. 

 

Then, “Scully?”

 

An immediate reply from somewhere in the house. “Yeah, I’m coming.”

 

Jackson rocked back on his heels, anticipating seeing his birth mother’s face again. He wanted to say something to his birth father and wished  _ he _ would say something to  _ him _ instead but he just continued to stare at him in disbelief. 

 

When Scully approached them, her expressive eyes widened and his heart squeezed at her whisper, “Jackson.”

 

“Hi,” he whispered back and they all three stood there, not a sound, not a move. 

 

Jackson wanted to walk away, say this was a mistake and turn and not look back. He wanted to stay. He wanted a bed again. He wanted a nice, warm shower again. He wanted the comfort of his mother’s touch and his father’s faith. 

 

“Room for one more?” He joked weakly.

 

These...strangers stared at him. Scully, her eyes filling with tears, stepped toward him. She was getting closer into his space and he never noticed that he held his breath as she brought her arms around him, tightly, his arms stiff at his sides. 

 

He didn’t expect this at all, the woman he had met for only half an hour or so seemed stoic and non affectionate. But she was here and her small arms wrapped around his neck to his back, her hands holding his head to her and her tears, he noticed, leaking onto his shoulder. 

 

“You came back,” he heard her emotional voice right in his ear and swallowed the sudden lump in his throat at her words. Did she mean came back as in the last time he saw her? Or came back into her life?

 

He didn’t ask or say anything but she wasn’t budging and it felt nice, different than his mom’s hugs but warm nonetheless and he craved it so his arms went around her too and he looked over at his biological father who was watching them with red rimmed eyes. 

 

Scully finally decided to let him go and when she pulled away gave him a huge, dazzling smile and Jackson couldn’t believe it was the first time he had seen her do that. He found himself smiling back.

 

His eyes locked with Mulder’s again and he squared his shoulders at the tall man, holding his hand out. “I’m Jackson, sir. It’s nice to meet you.”

 

Mulder had been taken out of his trance and shook his head, taking the boys hand and shaking it firmly. “It’s nice to finally meet you again, Jackson.”

 

When his father nervously smiled at him, Jackson felt his fear melt away. He seemed less intimidating now. 

 

“Do you have any clothes with you, Jackson?” Scully chimed in. 

 

“No, I - they’re all dirty, the ones I have,” he blushed.

 

“That’s alright,” she smiled reassuringly at him, “I can wash them for you. Why don’t you come inside? Are you hungry?”

 

\--

 

Later that evening, while Jackson unpacked what little he had in his backpack, he sighed, rolling his shoulders back and forth to relax his tense muscles. He didn’t have much in his bag: a toothbrush, a comb, one snowglobe he had snatched from a gas station somewhere in Pennsylvania. He heard a knock at the door.

 

It was Mulder.

 

During dinner, it was awkward and silent. Mulder had told him to call him by his last name and for a moment Jackson pondered if he wanted to keep it strictly formal between the two but then Mulder had reassured him by telling him he preferred to be called by his last name, nudging the woman next to him teasingly, “right, Scully?”

 

Jackson wanted to say things, to ask things, to tell them why he was there, but he didn’t. He felt a strange twinge of relief when he realized they had no other children and wondered for a moment if they were still together. Their actions toward each other did not give much away, they were drifting around the kitchen getting dinner ready, their movements fluid and quick, avoiding bumping into one another. It was comforting to see them move about with ease, as if this situation they were currently in was a part of their everyday lives.

 

“Just checking to see if you need anything,” the man said.

 

“No,” his voice came out scratchy from not speaking for a while and he cleared it, saying again, “no, I’m good.”

 

“Ok,” the older man said, backing away to make his exit. Jackson could tell he wanted to say more but made the decision not to. He wondered if he got the inability to communicate his thoughts and feelings from his biological parents. “We’re right down the hall.”

 

Jackson nodded, the confirmation that the two were still together made him feel another wave of relief that his real mother had indeed always had someone there for her.

 

Before he could leave the room, Mulder felt a hand on his back and he turned to see Scully, her eyes worried. Always worrying, he thought. “Is everything ok?” she asked, her arm holding a stack of Jackson’s now clean clothes. Mulder placed a comforting hand on her shoulder as he slipped past her. “Everything’s fine, Scully. I’m going to get changed.” He placed a kiss on the side of her head and Scully whispered something to him and entered the room, throwing a small smile at her estranged son.

 

She held out the bundle of clothes to him. “Here you go. Tomorrow we can go shopping for more clothes, if you’d like.”

 

He hasn’t clarified that he was going to stay longer than a night. He wanted to tell her not to assume that he would be staying longer but the look in her eyes made him keep his mouth shut. They hadn’t talked much at all during dinner but Jackson did tell them that he was tired of running. 

 

“You don’t have to run anymore,” Mulder had told him, a fierce glint in his eyes, “we can protect you.”

 

Jackson caught the blue eyes looking at him and they shared a look as they both remembered past words of their secret meeting. Jackson wasn’t sure if Scully has told Mulder that met up once at a diner but he wasn’t going to mention it. 

 

Jackson picked up his drink, saying, “I’ll think about it.” And took a sip while Mulder and Scully shared a worried, hopeful look.

 

“Thanks,” Jackson took the clothes from her hands. 

 

Scully bit her lip, hesitating. “I...I don’t want to make you uncomfortable but-“ another pause as her son looked up at her curiously, “I’m happy you’re here. It means a lot to us, you have no idea.”

 

Jackson felt vexed by her words. They put this pressure on him and made him feel like they expected something more of him. Perhaps they did as Scully once told him she wanted to give him his best chance at a better life. But her hopeful, joyful words crushed him to pieces and he felt he would be nothing but a huge disappointment to them both. 

 

_ You don’t know me,  _ he thought to the elated woman before him,  _ I’m nothing special.  _

 

“I wasn’t able to have children,” Dana muttered suddenly, “I tried and it failed and - your father told me not to give up. You were our miracle.”

 

Jackson took this in with a sharp inhale. He never knew that. Although he supposed there was a lot he didn’t know.

 

“I didn’t know that,” he just said.

 

“I don’t know why I told you,” Scully said then, “I guess I just wanted you to know that you’re important and you’re special and you were and have always been thought of, despite my attempts to wipe all thoughts of you out of my mind. It was too painful most of the time,” her last sentence came out in a whisper. 

 

Jackson’s heart swelled with a feeling he couldn’t quite describe yet for this woman he hardly knew. Emotions swirled relentlessly inside him and he struggled to keep up with them all. Guilt, fear, worry, and most of all, gratification at being accepted, validated. These people who gave him away still obviously cared and had wanted him. He spent his early teen years full of resentment thinking he was not wanted, despite his parents empty protests. It was incredibly satisfying to know that was not the case.

 

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he found himself saying. 

 

Scully would have laughed but it got stuck in her throat and tears leaked from her eyes. “ _ You’re  _ sorry?” She scoffed, “ _ I’m  _ sorry.”

 

“How about we not spend our time being sorry for things in the past?” A voice behind her said. It was Mulder again and he was dressed to go to bed. White shirt, plaid pants, thick reading glasses on his face. 

 

Scully raised an eyebrow at him. “How long have you been standing there, nosey?”

 

Mulder held his hands up in mock surrender. “I just got here I swear.”

 

Scully rolled her eyes and Jackson watched as he put a gentle hand on the small of her back. 

 

“Come on, let the kid get some sleep,” Mulder told her.

 

Scully looked guilty now at the thought of keeping Jackson awake but Jackson shook his head. 

 

“It’s ok, we’ll talk more tomorrow.”

 

She looked happy at that and before turning to leave the room, came up to him. She wanted to hug him again but he still sat on the bed so she put her hand on his cheek, rubbing his face with her thumb. 

 

Jackson felt himself lean into the touch, thinking again about his mom and dad and how much he missed them.

 

It’s as if Scully read his mind again and she gave him that soft smile she had given him before when she told him she’ll always worry about him and bent down to kiss his head. “We  _ will _ talk tomorrow,” she said, smoothing his cheek with her thumb again, “everything will be ok. Promise.”

 

Jackson nodded and watched as they left the room, falling back onto the bed. He wasn’t sure if he was going to stay yet and if he would stay he wasn’t sure for how long. His future was so unclear to him now and he had no idea how to go about his life but he supposed sleeping in a regular bed again was a good start. Perhaps he was home now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like the thought of Scully offering him food immediately, it's a very Mom thing to do. And I like the reassurance she gives Jackson in the end that everything will be ok because it's also a very Mom thing to do (although my own mother didn't do it much unless I TOLD her I would like to be told, vocally, that everything would be ok lol) but anyway. Mom Scully gives me all kinds of feels. I would've written more Dad Mulder too but I feel like he would want to keep his distance at first because he's nervous and kind of in disbelief that their son has suddenly and willingly walked back into their lives. Plus I wanted this fic to be more about Scully and William even though Mulder IS his real father and you can't convince me otherwise thx

**Author's Note:**

> There is a part 2 & 3!! (3 is not posted yet but it's in progress)


End file.
